Women of Westeros
by SongofThrones
Summary: In the year 300, the song of ice and fire ended. 20 years later, Daenerys Targaryen rules the Realm with a woman at the head of each kingdom. It is a new age of freedom and sexual revolution. However, there are forces who would depose the Queen and set back the course of time. Rated M for Language, Sex, and Violence.
1. Daenerys I

Three hundred and twenty years after Aegon's Conquest, Queen Daenerys Targaryen sat at the head of the Small Council and could not stop staring at Missandei's chest. As her advisers debated on and on about politics, Dany licked her lips at the sight of her friend's large brown breasts. Ten years ago she would have exposed a nipple or done a little dance in the corner of the room. But she was a mother now, married to a Dothraki warrior. Daenerys had children of her own, but lacked a man to satisfy her ravenous appetite. Nevertheless, the 36-year-old Queen of Westeros sat in a room with old men, thirsting for another woman's cunt while her own was soaking her dress and chair.

Dany rested her chin in her hand and watched the Small Council argue about gold. Making sure each of them were completely focused on each other, she slyly licked her fingers. Missandei blushed. In a slow, discrete motion, Dany slid her right hand down below the table, between her thighs, and underneath her dress. She waited until Lord Blackwood was yelling at Lord Redwyne before she slid a finger inside herself and let out a moan.

Missandei's eyes widened. For years, Dany's sexual deviancy had been kept to late night sessions behind closed doors. Doing something during the daytime and in public was frighteningly new. The foreign usurper was already unpopular in some areas of Westeros. A scandal like this could ruin her.

The increasingly loud argument of the Small Council allowed Daenerys to increase her speed. Her wet sounds went unnoticed. She bit her lip to stifle a moan, as her face began to contort and her eyebrows dancing around. In her fantasy, Missandei was on her hands and knees crawling. The Naathi woman had a thin waist and a fat ass that put white women to shame. Dany wanted her to sneak under the table and secretly lick her cunt.

"Why don't we ask the Queen?" Her Hand Tyrion Lannister was drunk, but still noticed her lack of attention.

"How would you handle Baelor Hightower?" Lord Varys was old and losing his sight.

Daenerys carefully moved her wet hand to her knee.

"Margaery Tyrell is his niece. And more importantly, she is the Lady Paramount of the Reach. Tell her to make sure Lord Hightower knows this."

The meeting soon ended while she cleaned her fingers with her mouth. Dany walked to her chambers quickly and with a purpose. She needed to leave that dreaded Small Council. During her 20-year reign, bureaucracy was undoubtedly the worst part. In the dead of winter 300 AC, she had ridden Drogon into King's Landing and defeated her nephew Aegon. The following year she burned the white walkers at the Wall and killed the Night's King alongside her nephew Jon Snow. Now her life was nothing but taxes and talking.

Daenerys was glad to see Lady Brienne of her Queensguard standing watch at her door. The tall knight was sympathetic to alternate expressions of love. Inside her bedroom, Dany grinned at the sight of Missandei blushing.

"Strip her," she ordered Irri and Jhiqui. The two Dothraki women were mothers as well, but the four of them had a special relationship. After Dany's two great victories, they all fucked in celebration. Having survived the Red Waste and the Battle of Meereen, their love transcended the bonds of marriage. "Lick her holes."

Irri kneeled in front of the tall translator and Jhiqui knelt behind her. Missandei held a scream as they pleasured her. Dany removed her own gown. She pinched her pink nipples of her small breasts. Although she was the shortest of her friends, the Targaryen Queen was as strong and ravenous as her dragons.

"May I, your grace?" Missandei pleaded, her golden eyes begging.

"Absolutely not," Dany declared. Her little legs carried her to the trio. With a finger she collected island juice from Irri's chin and tasted it. She then gathered her own wetness and put two fingers in Missandei's mouth. She stared up at the taller woman with violet flames in her eyes. "You have awakened the dragon."

"Please, your grace!"

"Put her on the bed."

"As you wish, Khaleesi."

The Dothraki handmaidens stood and laid the weak-kneed Missandei to the luxurious feather bed. The silk sheets tickled her sensitive, sweaty skin. Flat on her back, she spread her legs and lifted her hips.

"Irri, Jhiqui, why don't you taste each other? And be sure to soak my bed with your scent."

The two mothers smiled and shared a deep kiss. Their sons were squires together and their daughters the best of friends. It was ages since they had been girls in the Dothraki Sea, their fathers killed mercilessly before they were traded as slaves. Now, they were going to fuck in the Red Keep, next to the most powerful woman in the known world.

Meanwhile, Dany knelt between Missandei's knees and stared at her glistening lips. The silver haired woman rubbed at her own.

"Say my name," she commanded. "And don't squirt until you finish all of them." With that she buried her nose in Missandei's curly black bush and orally attacked her sweet fruit.

"Oh God!" she squealed, thanking her Naathi god the Lord of Harmony. "You are Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen, oh fuck . . . First of Her Name . . . yes . . . Queen of the Andals . . . and the First Men and the Rhoynar, L-L-Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, the Unburnt . . . oooh Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea . . . Breaker of Chains and Mother of Dragons. May I squirt now?!"

Dany smiled as she teased Missandei's clit.

"Count down from ten in Valyrian," she ordered.

"Yes, your grace. Ampa . . . Vore . . . Jenqa . . . sikuda . . . byre . . . toma . . . izula . . . hare . . . lanta . . . mere!"

"Now in Dothraki."

"Thi, qazat, ori, fekh, zhinda, mek, tor, sen, akat, at!"

"Squirt for me," Daenerys demanded.

"Thank you Mhysa!"

Missandei let out a scream that stopped Irri and Jhiqui's dinner for two. She arched her back and grabbed Khaleesi's long, soft hair. Dany drank as much juice as she could. Soon all four women laid in bed together, lazily kissing each other, one white small body lost in an entanglement of sweaty and brown arms and legs.

"It's good to be the Queen," Daenerys moaned. "The Iron Throne be damned. I won't let any pompous lord depose me and take away this kind of freedom." 

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	2. Margaery I

Margaery Tyrell had a glass of wine before bed. She was alone. Tommen had gone to Casterly Rock to deal with his sister for gold. A poor harvest had hurt the Reach's coffers once again. Her husband spent many days and nights away on business, a pattern which emerged in the past few years. He was a fine father with his two children. But he wasn't a man in her eyes.

The new age called for equal partnership in a marriage. She was Lady Paramount and was willing to hear his counsel. His contribution was to ask his older sister for coin. Tommen was a boy at heart: quiet and soft. Margaery was left to manage her affairs by herself, the most pressing of which was her sex life.

She had married a nine-year-old boy but waited until he was fourteen. But even when they consummated, he was more cub than lion, not to mention his unsatisfying size. She rarely found her release and even those victories were assisted by her own hand. Margaery had suffered in her early 20s, but now at 37 she was in the seven hells.

Once she was properly drunk, she disrobed and laid naked in her bed. After lathering the handle of a hairbrush with her tongue, she eased it into herself. A smirk formed on her lips. She pounded herself and felt her body shake and shiver. Her release came and she let out a laugh.

Margaery rose to her knees and straggled a plump pillow. She humped it with a heated fervor, riding it as if it were a galloping horse. She moaned loudly, her second release stronger than the first. Collapsing onto her stomach she remained motionless and thought. Ideas were just starting to make sense when she fell into a deep sleep.

In the morning, she had her epiphany. It was a decision a long time in the making, but if she didn't achieve it by the time she was 40, she never would. She called the maester to write down a letter that would be sent to every prominent lord and lady in the Seven Kingdoms.

 _Under the just laws of Queen Daenerys I Targaryen, the rulers of the kingdoms are granted_ _the autonomy to settle internal disputes. Therefore, as Lady Paramount of the Reach, I, Margaery Tyrell, do declare my marriage to Tommen Lannister ended effective immediately. From this day forward I am no longer his wife and he is no longer my husband. I implore the great houses of the Realm to acknowledge my decision and newfound status in the laws of gods, men, and women._

The maester was hesitant but obedient. Margaery asked for Baelor Hightower's letter to be given to her before being sealed with the stamp of the golden rose. At the bottom of her decree, she added in her own handwriting:

 _Postscript. Do you know of the Rains of Castamere? Do not disrespect your liege lady or your Queen, Baelor. Try something and I shall make you famous._

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	3. Sansa I

The warmest place at the Wall was the Lord Commander's room. Jon Snow was at his desk looking over letters and documents. He sighed and sunk his head in his hands. Karhold would only be delivering half the lumber they had promised. And Eastwatch by the Sea had lost four men in a building collapse, dropping their men to below 100. Summer couldn't come soon enough.

A knock at the door stole him from his worries. "Enter," he called.

Entering his chambers was a woman. She was tall with long red hair, her body wrapped in Stark grey fur. Her smile was bright and her eyes were blue.

"Sansa," Jon laughed. He watched her come to him before they shared a quick and tender kiss. "What are you doing here?"

"The Lady of the North has obligations to her subjects." Sansa sat on the desk in front of him. "I'm glad to give the men of the Night's Watch an image to jerk themselves."

Jon licked his lips. He placed his hands on each of her knees and spread her legs.

"I would like to speak with you first," Lady Stark protested. As much as she wanted her cousin's bearded face between her thighs, it was rare that she had anyone with whom she could speak freely. "How fares life at the Wall?"

"Cold. How fares life in the Seven Kingdoms?" Jon picked up a parchment. "What's going on with this dilemma of Lady Tyrell? She claims to no longer be married to the living Tommen Lannister."

"I've known Margaery for twenty years. She loves having people talk about her. I'm sure it will die out soon."

"Very well then," Jon noted. He looked up at Sansa and admired her beauty. Her thirty four years of age were just beginning to show on her pale face. She had lived a hard life, not just in King's Landing, but in Winterfell, married to the big brute Harrold Hardyng. He had given her four children while he fucked every girl, noble or highborn, who would give him her ass. His sudden death two years ago had taken some of her wrinkles. "How are your children?"

"Arryn has grown like a weirwood. Thank the gods it's the only trait he inherited from his father. Eddara and Roberta fight like Stark sisters should. And Richard . . . he reminds me so much of Bran." Sansa smiled wide. "Your children are doing fine as well."

"They are the Queen's children," Jon dismissed. "She raised them."

The Lord Commander recalled one night twenty years ago. He remembered a young girl with blonde hair and violet eyes. And on the night before the final battle, when all seemed lost in the dead of winter of the true north, they fucked as if the world was ending. They drank each other. Jon spilled his seed in her cunt, on her face, and down her throat. His aunt, his queen, was his whore. The mere thought of her cream covered eyebrows made his pants tight.

Two years later, Daenerys Targaryen visited the Night's Watch for good will. She rode the Lord Commander on top of the Wall. And two more year later, she rode her dragon to see him and fucked him again. It was only on the third time that Jon was simply being milked like a Targaryen cow for his Valyrian seed.

"It appears I've done some raising of my own."

Sansa Stark dropped to her knees before her cousin. She freed his cock and felt her loins quiver. He was large and angry, his honor preventing him from ever emptying his balls by his own hand. The Lady of the North gleefully swallowed him into her warm, wet mouth.

She worshipped him as a god. Her tongue licked at every inch of his mighty sword. Expressing her love for him was her mission. On the night they reunited, they ravaged each other with insatiable hunger. She had thought of herself as the last Stark and he was reminded of a long lost redheaded love. Ever since then, every visit she made had to include proving to him how much she cared for her family.

The door opened. Jon sat up to make sure Sansa was hidden beneath the desk.

"Good evening, Lord Commander." It was Sam, the maester of the Night's Watch. "Have you seen Lady Stark? It appears she's gone missing."

Sansa gagged on his cock. Jon winced and held his moan.

"I didn't even know she was here. Mayhaps she's praying at the weirwood."

She smiled around his cock and continued to suck him.

"I'll keep searching," Sam said before leaving and shutting the door.

Jon took her red hair in his hands and withdrew himself from her throat.

"I love you," he told her, laughing for the first time in a long while. He stood and walked to the door, exposed. He locked his chambers and turned around to a surprise. Sansa was in his chair with her feet on the desk, her dressed pulled up, and her knees spread open. She wore a red bush.

"Come have a taste, Jon." She dipped a finger inside her cunt and sucked it clean. "Delicious. Like lemon cakes."

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	4. Catelyn I

Catelyn was a good Riverlands girl. She said her prayers to the Seven, excelled at knitting and singing, and was a great beauty at only 20 years of age. Her round race she received from her mother and her redhead from her father. She was the jewel of Riverrun. However, despite the adoration of the nobles and smallfolk alike, she kept a secret hidden to herself.

Her mind was diseased with vulgar thoughts. On some nights, she laid awake at night with her loins aching, the image of Rodrick Piper in her mind. Her friend and lady in waiting Margot knew all the mysteries about boys and sex which the septas kept hidden. At 15, the girls shared their first kiss with each other. At 16, Catelyn learned the pleasure possible of her own hands and the pair rubbed themselves to completion in the same bed. It was two moons ago that Margot described her first experience with a stable boy; a cock was longer and thicker than their fingers and to be trapped under his muscular weight was exciting.

She had finally given in to her passion on the night before. Behind her closed eyes, she saw Rodrick climbing in top of her, his big arms by her sides and his green eyes staring down at her. She imagined him to be as thick as her two fingers. Her passion carried to her a powerful release and a sinful smile.

In the morning, she debated whether or not she should confess to the septon. On one hand, she had transgressed against the Maiden. In the hell for the lustful, those whose sexual appetite trumped reason were punished by violent winds for all of eternity. On the other hand, there was no way a young girl could admit to such a thing to an old man, regardless of her house name.

The Maester found her in the sept, praying alone.

"Lady Catelyn," he whispered. "You are needed in the council chambers."

The young redhead obeyed. She rushed to the building as quickly as her short legs and dress could take her. In the room, Catelyn found three gray haired men sitting at the table: Lord Jonos Bracken, Lord William Mooton, and the castellan of Riverrun Tywin Frey.

"I thought your father was better, Lady Tully," Bracken growled.

"He is still bedridden," she responded. "His face still partially frozen. I shall pass on your well wishes."

"Have a seat, girl," he said. "We need to speak."

Catelyn sat on the other side of the table, Maester Boros by her side.

"Is this pertaining to my marriage?"

"This is about Lady Tyrell's letter," Mooton roared. "We did not save the Riverlands in the war to have our gods disgraced. Honestly, her only claim to her House's seat is her blood and the Dragon Queen's word. She lacks both the brain of Willas and the gallantry of Garlan. It's a damn shame they were slain by the Ironborn."

"I agree it is for the gods to decide when a marriage is ended." Catelyn found a nervous sweat collecting on her neck. She always knew this day was coming when she would become ruler of the Riverlands. But Lord Edmure's sudden fit had advanced the day by at least 10 years. "But is this not a quarrel between Lady Margaery and the Faith?"

"You haven't been reading your history," Tywin Frey scolded. "How many small uprisings have aged into unstoppable revolutions? The thrice-wed rose shows no respect for the gods and claims a greater power. If she does not recognize their laws, then she will not recognize the laws of men. Will we say the same thing when she takes the land of her lesser lords? Will we say it's not our problem? Will others say the same when our kingdom is breached?"

"I've said the same about the Dragon Queen since the first day," Bracken said. "She changes the Realm piece by piece until she becomes her father before anyone has noticed. This is where we make our stand."

"The law to give the eldest child inheritance is not the issue," Frey clarified. "We do not claim that all women should be subjugated for their delusions of grandeur. It is simply this woman, Margaery Tyrell."

"She's a slut," Mooton snarled. "Her incest born husband likely has a crippled cock. She only wants a fourth husband to fuck her right."

Catelyn stared down at the table. She had never met the legendary Margaery Tyrell nor had she ever made a major decision for the banners of the Riverlands. The gods were testing her, mayhaps to atone for her own sins.

"What would you have me do?"

"March to King's Landing," Bracken demanded. "We River lords and a small retinue of armed guards. We must demand the Queen to do her duty and govern the Realm. And if she won't arrest Lady Tyrell, then we will."

Catelyn Tully felt her heart race. All eyes were on her, waiting for the words to come out of her mouth. She needed to make a decision for her father, for her kingdom, and for her gods.

"We march tomorrow."

 **Please review if you think I should continue. And any criticisms, questions, and of course reviews.**


	5. Daenerys II

She was naked and bent over her bed. He gripped her thick sides tightly and thrusted hard.

"Oh gods fuck me!" Denyse squealed. She didn't care what the people of King's Landing thought about Paxter Redwyne's granddaughter. She knew what he liked to hear. "Pound my cunt, my lord. Pound me harder! Fuck!"

He stopped and pulled out so his head was barely in her entrance.

"Whose cunt is this?"

"Yours," she cried. Denyse looked back at him, trying to push herself onto him. His shirtless chest was sculpted and sweaty. His white blonde hair was tied back and his violet eyes burned into her. "I'm yours. Please, my prince. Give me your seed. I want to have your child."

Duncan fucked her into the bed sheets, her body collapsing under him. He felt her squeezing him and moaning his name in praise. The young prince pulled out and shot his seed over her back.

"Not today," he told her. Wiping his body with a cloth, he tossed it onto her and redressed himself. "But I shall see you again."

"Thank you, Duncan," Denyse Redwyne whispered sleepily.

Outside her family's home, the prince found a tall, 40 year old knight in white armor.

"Your mother has sent for you," the Queensguard informed him. "I am to bring you to the Great Sept at once."

"Tell me, Lady Brienne, who screams louder? Lady Redwyne or Lady Blackwood?"

"I would advise you again, my lord, it's not wise to sneak around with the granddaughters of your mother's advisors."

"You heard her begging for it," Duncan replied, walking ahead of the giant woman. "As a ruler it is my duty to give the people what they want."

As the two walked through the streets of King's Landing, people of all types stared at Prince Duncan Targaryen. Men and women, highborn and lowborn, old and young. With every passing year, he was growing into more and more of a man. They were already calling him Rhaegar Reborn, and at 20 years of age, he still had time to grow.

At the Great Sept of Baelor, they found the royal party waiting at the doors. Duncan hugged his mother, shook hands with old Lord Varys and the Hand Tyrion Lannister, and simply stared down the Queen's aide Missandei.

"You smell . . . interesting," Daenerys noted with a stern look in her eye.

"What's this about then?" he asked with a smirk. "I was in the middle of something."

"It seems that Lady Margaery's decree has enraged more than just the Faith," Varys said. "Catelyn Tully leads a party of River lords here as we speak. It would be wise to clean this mess before it gets out of hand."

"Don't be fooled by my example," Tyrion told Duncan. "This life is unfortunately more than wine and women."

Inside the holy building, the group found only silence and emptiness. None of them had been to service in recent times. The High Septon was praying at the altar and descended down the steps at the sound of footsteps.

"Seven blessing, your grace," he greeted. The head of the Faith was a skinny man in his 50s. Daenerys had no conflict with the man and knew of no vices. "I presume I know what brings you here."

"Margaery Tyrell declares that she can rewrite the laws of gods and men concerning herself." Dany was a head shorter than the man wearing an intricate outfit. "I imagine you have denied her request."

"Emphatically," he stated with a soft smile. "In marriage, the gods bind a man and a woman to a merging of their persons that only the Stranger may end."

"Forgive me, High Septon," she said. "But 20 years after my conversion to the Faith and I still have trouble understanding the gods. So tell me, how is it that Aegon the Conqueror can be married to two women and that my own parents were brother and sister. Surely those do not fit your definition of marriage."

"The Targaryens have always been the exception." He was still smiling. "After all, we don't let everybody sit on the Iron Throne."

"Of course." Dany felt a bit embarrassed as she heard Tyrion laugh. "But what could be the harm between a mutual separation? It saves the trouble of killing one's spouse in order to remarry."

"Is it mutual?" the High Septon asked. "I haven't heard of Tommen Lannister's response."

"Word has it," Varys added, "that Tommen became upset and immediately rode for the Reach."

The queen and the holy man continued to verbally spar over the merits of divorce. Duncan quickly lost interest and let his eyes wander. They were drawn to his right, to the sight of Missandei's fat ass tightly glad in her green dress. He felt his blood rush and his cock harden. The closest he had come to desecrating a sept was when he fucked a septa. His mouth was watering at the thought of throwing the dark skinned beauty onto the altar and burying his tongue in her two holes.

Missandei was standing behind Dany, Tyrion and Varys, but was facing the High Septon. She suddenly felt a breath on her neck and a rod on her backside. Her son Jako was the crown prince's squire, so she knew of the young man's exploits. She remained calm.

"Please, my lord," she whispered. "This isn't right."

"This is a house of worship," he growled softly, keeping his eyes forward. "I want to worship every inch of you."

"But your mother . . . and my son." Her mind was telling her no, but her body was saying yes. Her nipples were hard and her knees weak.

"And your husband?" he teased. "I don't know if you can tell without looking, but I am the true horse lord."

He placed a hand on her hip. Missandei bit her lip, complacent in the indecency going on in the Great Sept of Baelor and in front of the High Septon.

"You leave me no choice," Daenerys nearly screamed. "I will call a council of the Ladies Paramount. We will all vote on the matter and it shall be settled."

"I look forward to it," the High Septon replied, his closed-lipped smile still on his face.

 **Please review if you think I should write more. Also, make comments, ask questions, or make requests.**


	6. Asha I

Asha Greyjoy, Lady of the Iron Islands and Captain of the _Black Wind_ , was forced to spend her nameday sailing to King's Landing. The Queen had called a council to settle the dispute of Margaery Tyrell's great matter. She valued the independence of the Ironborn, but knew how to pick her battles. Normally, she would have celebrated with half a fortnight of merriment, competition, and feasting. However, as she turned 45 years old, she had only recently admitted that she could no longer fish, swim, or fight as well as she once did. Nevertheless, there was still one tradition that she would not let go.

In the captain's cabin, Asha rode Tristifer with his cock in her cunt while Qarl fucked her ass. She grinned as her husbands granted her the gift of feeling full. Her body shook constantly and not because of the uneasy waters. She covered them both in her cream and ale. Soon, they filled her with seed, knowing that their wife's womb had grown dormant. Exhausted, the trio collapsed into the sheets.

"Who will you side with?" Qarl asked her, lazily rubbing himself back to life.

"Isn't it obvious?" Asha watched as Tristifer put his hand on her stomach, gently tracing her battle scars and stretch marks. "I support the redefinition of marriage."

"And I thank you every day for giving me your name and bearing my children." He kissed her. "But what do we care about their gods and their lives? I think it might be better to let them be trapped in a trouble marriage. If Margaery is driven to kill her husband again, it would be good for our raiders."

"And you Tris?" Asha wondered.

"I would vote no." Her other husband was petting her hairy pussy. He crawled down to kiss her pouty lips. "A man unsure of his love and his wife is no man at all."

Qarl began groping her small tits and sucking her nipples.

"My uncle killed her brothers. It is almost . . . poetic that I could ruin Margaery Tyrell. Oh how I'd love to see that pretty bitch cry."

Lady Greyjoy looked down to see her husband's ass sticking up in the air as he feasted on her weeping loins.

"Yes," she moaned. "My answer is no."

 **Please review if you think I should write more. Also, make comments, ask questions, or make requests.**

 **You are of course free to imagine the characters as you wish, but here are some castings I've been using.**

 **Sansa Stark (34) = Jessica Chastain (38)**

 **Asha Greyjoy (45) = Charlotte Gainsbourg (44)**

 **Catelyn Tully (20) = Molly C. Quinn (22)**

 **Margaery Tyrell (37) = Natalie Dormer (33)**

 **Daenerys Targaryen (36) = Emilia Clarke (29)**


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